Deprivation
by ch19777
Summary: Slightly AU story that explores what could have happened in the months after Jane and Lisbon first met. Warning, angsty ending. "He just wants to hold her, hear her breathe, smell her scent - until he feels strong enough to go home."


_Written for the jello-forever(dot)proboards(dot)com August 2009 challenge with the prompt "Mistakes"._

_The story begins shortly after Jane and Lisbon's first encounter. It's kind of AU, but I guess it's not entirely impossible that this happened.  
_

_**Warning:** The last part is dark/angsty._

_**Disclaimer:** Nope, still not mine. _

* * *

_**February 14th**_

He walks up to the woman, grinning in anticipation of her reaction to his arrival. She wasn't exactly pleased when her boss introduced them last week and he doubts she will be any more thrilled today at their second meeting.

"Agent Lisbon." He addresses her in a saccharine voice and extends his hand to greet her. Even though he barely knows her, he already discovered that it is fun to irritate her.

She eyes him suspiciously, then stares at his hand longer than it is polite, before finally shaking it. This is surprising. He expected her to ignore it and avoid the physical contact. Interesting.

"Mr. Jane. I didn't expect to see you again so soon." She states with mock courtesy and raised eyebrows.

She really seems to believe that she doesn't like him and he regards this as a challenge to prove her otherwise. But first, he has to annoy her a little more - just for the fun of it. "What, you thought your little speech about respecting the victim's family's privacy and not messing with you would be enough to make me stay away?"

She looks sheepishly guilty, all of a sudden. He is convinced that she isn't aware how adorable she is.

"Look, our first encounter didn't go all that well," She begins to make amends. "... and even though I did mean what I said, I probably should have been a little more... diplomatic."

Something tells him that she isn't really good at apologizing. This one was most likely not even her idea. She probably got an earful from her boss who witnessed her reprimanding him.

"Nah, no need to apologize. You aren't as intimidating as you think and I obtained satisfaction from the fact that the brother is indeed the killer."

She glares at him, thrusts a file into his hand and tells him to read it. Then she turns around and walks away to her waiting colleagues.

"Arrogant ass." He hears her mumble as she storms off.

This doesn't bode well for him. But why does he even care? He isn't exactly sure why it is important what this woman thinks of him. They might occasionally work together in the future if he decides to continue offering his services to the CBI, but that's it. And their relationship really can't be anything more than a professional one. He is clearly not in the position to start something with her that goes beyond that.

Besides, she isn't his type. She isn't anything like the women he's been with in the past. She is rather petite, dark-haired, not Barbie-like at all. She doesn't seem to care much about clothes or makeup. Her hair is in a messy ponytail and she wears shoes that look like they were made for a man.

And still, there is something subtly sexy about her. Something that not even he, who is skilled at analyzing people, can explain. But there is no denying - he is clearly intrigued by her. Even though - or maybe _because_ - she seems unimpressed by his looks and his charm. From the corner of his eye, he notices two female police officers flirtatiously glancing at him. That's the effect he has on most women. The mighty Agent Lisbon is apparently a rare exception to the rule.

She is strong, equal, prickly. And ready to kick his ass when he does something reckless like accusing a victim's brother of abusing his sister. Teresa Lisbon is definitely more a Katharina than a Bianca, but - watching her giving orders to her team - he is stunned to discover that he isn't opposed to the idea of trying to 'tame the shrew'.

"Who do you think did it?" He asks her when she is at his side again. After skimming the file, he has a vague idea, but he wants to hear her suggestion before sharing the information.

"I like the pool boy for it." She replies without hesitation. She is confident, he likes that.

He nods, smiles. "Good choice."

"Yeah?" She is looking a little like a schoolgirl who just got a good grade against expectation.

Too bad that he has to burst her bubble. "Yeah. He isn't the killer, but I can see why you suspect him."

She sighs, pretends to be annoyed with him. At least he hopes that she is only pretending. "Let's go talk to the family, shall we? And then you can tell me why you think the pool boy didn't do it."

He picks a daisy on the front lawn and presents it to her when they enter the house.

She frowns, obviously taken aback, but takes the little flower from his hand nevertheless. Confusion suits her even better than the sheepish look earlier.

"Happy Valentine's Day, Agent Lisbon."

He is delighted as he walks away, still picturing the little smile tugging at one corner of her mouth. Her amusement was barely noticeably, but it's a start.

_**May 3rd**_

Lisbon shouts, scolds him, slaps his arm when he reaches out to calm the waves. Her temperamental outburst attracted an audience of other agents, who watch their clash with fascination. After a while, she throws her arms up in exasperation, rushes off and slams the door to her office in his face. Her departure is, without a doubt, spectacular.

He cautiously opens the door, ignoring the murmur of disapproval behind his back. No matter what the others think, he knows what he gets himself into. She stands at the window, rubbing her temples. He hates that he is, once again, responsible for her headache. But then again, was it really that bad what he did?

"Slapping me was a little bit over the top, don't you think?" He cheerily makes conversation as if nothing is wrong between them. "I mean, I get that you want to give the impression that you loathe me, but... "

"I'm really angry, Jane." She interrupts him and he doesn't like how sad and disappointed she sounds.

"I know. I'm sorry."

"No, you're not." She knows him too well.

"Okay, I'm not sorry for following you into the house, but I am sorry that I upset you."

She sighs, an unmistakable sign that she is beginning to forgive him - against her own will.

"I didn't tell you to wait in the car to annoy you, but to protect you. It's dangerous to confront criminals without any training or a gun." She lectures him and he realizes that she has a point there.

"I didn't think of it that way. I heard the shots and I just wanted to... save you."

She chuckles, surprises him with her reaction. "Save me? And how exactly did you want to do this?"

"I admit, my plan wasn't entirely concocted yet."

"Just promise me that you won't do anything stupid like that again, okay?" She demands, now absolutely serious again.

He promises and wants to seal their reconciliation with a kiss, but she backs away from him.

"Not here." She rejects him, throwing nervous glances at the glass wall with the half-open shutters.

He doesn't push her, doesn't want her to feel uncomfortable. He learned soon after meeting her that separating her private life from her professional life is important to her.

"Can I see you tonight?" He asks, full of hope. It's been way too long that he spent time outside work with her.

She hesitates, considers her reply very carefully.

He can tell that she wants to be strong, wants to protect herself from getting hurt. And he knows that he should support her, that he should stay away from her - but he simply can't do this. The thought of letting her slip away scares him. He isn't able to give himself to her fully, but he also can't give up all those little precious moments he shares with her, the moments when he can be truly himself. It is selfish, he knows that, but that's how it is.

"Please, I really need to see you tonight." He pleads, begs, hopes.

Finally she nods. "I'll be at home by 6."

He steals a peck from her before leaving her office and has trouble hiding his happy smile from the agents outside.

_**August 11th**_

He doesn't want to do this stupid TV show. He vowed to himself that he is done with that crap, but still here he is. They bugged him for so long that he finally saw giving in as the only way out.

At first, he feels a little uncomfortable in front of the camera, but soon he regains his self-confidence. He tells the talk show hosts and the audience what they want to hear, entertains them, makes them laugh. It's easy, really. But he still feels awful afterwards, disgusted by his own slick behavior. This was _really_ the last time ever, he tells himself when he drives home.

He arrives at his house, but he doesn't get out of the car. All windows are dark, don't invite him in. He starts the engine again to go to the only place he knows that will offer exactly what he needs right now.

He opens her door with the key he got from her just a few days ago. It wasn't her idea, but she was persuaded surprisingly fast. Not bothering to take off his clothes, he slips under the covers with her. He isn't here for sex. He just wants to hold her, hear her breathe, smell her scent - until he feels strong enough to go home.

"How was the show?" Teresa mumbles sleepily when he wraps his arms around her.

"Okay. Nothing special."

She snuggles up to him, feels warm and comforting against his body.

He tries to remember the last time he felt for a woman what he feels for her - and fails. Before her, he thought he was in love twice in his life. But this, being with her, is so much more intense.

Instead of feeling guilty for admitting to himself that he loves her more than his wife, he catches himself wishing that things could be different. Easier. He wishes he would be able to just stay with her instead of stealing away in the middle of the night every time he visits her.

He longs to watch her fall asleep, to be there when she wakes up. He wants to live with her, laugh with her, argue with her, watch her walk barefoot in the grass, see her pregnant with his baby, built a new life with her.

Instead, he is forced to only get glimpses of her life.

He wishes he would have met her earlier, before things got so complicated. Before he promised his wife to love her forever. He wishes he wouldn't love his daughter so much that the thought of letting go makes his stomach turn.

His loyalty to his family is eating him up alive.

"Sometimes I wish you could just stay with me." She whispers in the dark.

This is new. She never talks about her feelings. They both don't. It's an unspoken agreement between them. Feelings only complicate matters, they are a dangerous thing.

Suddenly, his mind is made up.

It doesn't feel impossible anymore.

Challenging, yes.

Frightening, that too.

But he knows he wants to give himself a new chance.

He kisses her bare shoulder and whispers a promise. "I will stay forever. Soon."

She turns around in his arms, switches on the bedside lamp. She locks her wide eyes with his and silently begs him to tell her that he wasn't joking.

"Don't promise anything you can't keep." She says, barely audible.

He strokes her cheek, gently, reassuringly. "I mean it. I'll have to take care of some.. things first. But I'll be back soon and then I will stay."

She is still doubting him, still doesn't dare to hope. He sees it in her look, in the way she nibbles at her lower lip. So he kisses her, frantically, again and again to make her a believer.

He makes love to her and it is wonderful and genuine and even better than ever before, now that he knows of the future that lies ahead of them.

A few minutes before midnight he leaves her, reaffirms his commitment to her once more, and then drives to his house to cut himself off from his old, unhappy life.

_**August 12th**_

The sun is shining brightly, mockingly into the room.

People come, people leave.

He barely notices.

A never-ending cacophony of voices.

Strangers talk to him, ask endless questions that he doesn't want to answer.

He feels numb, left out.

He lost his connection to the world, to his immediate surroundings, to the people in his life.

To himself.

He winces when a hand touches his shoulder. He looks up into her eyes.

She cried, earlier.

She is still beautiful.

She struggles for words, then she gives up. The right words to say in a situation like this don't exist.

He almost feels something again when he understands that she knows as well as him that things between them are over.

She slides down the wall to sit on the floor next to him. Their bodies don't make contact.

There is a sting in his heart when he realizes that he can never let her touch him again.

That he can never again hold her in his arms and draw strength from her warmth.

That he can't even allow himself to give in to the illusion that she can make everything better.

Side by side, yet miles apart, they remain silent.

He glances at her, thinks of the future he promised her.

All his promises are worthless now.

Looking away, he takes a silent pledge to never be happy again.

He stares straight forward at the wall.

The bloody smiley face taunts him.

It will haunt him forever.

He made the mistake to underestimate a very dangerous man.

He made the mistake to fall in love and dream of a new beginning.

He made the mistake to be with her when he should have been at home with his wife and daughter.

He'll pay for his mistakes.

Having her right in front of him, imagining what could have been and now never can be, will be his self-chastisement for the rest of his life.


End file.
